I honestly don't know what this is because I'm so bored in history and I need something to do, so uh. Enjoy?
"What is this?"
Rukia's holding out the thing, and Ichigo flushes an impressive, brilliant shade of red. She's staring at him, too, an eyebrow quirked. She's waiting for a reply. An answer. She won't let him go until he tells her, but he's just so damn flustered. How is he suppose to explain this to her? He hasn't even kissed a girl. Ichigo looks at the thing, then back at Rukia. Still so expectant. Obviously, the Soul Society doesn't have these. If they do, then Rukia's either playing dumb or she genuinely doesn't know.
"Ichigo!" Rukia snaps, and Ichigo grumbles. "Just spit it out. What. Is. This?"
"... Go ask Rangiku," Ichigo replies, and Rukia narrows her eyes.
"She said you would say that."
"W-what?" Ichigo splutters, his face now a deep, dark red. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"She said to ask you just to get your reaction," Rukia says, smirking at him. That smirk. Ichigo knows that smirk. It's the smirk she gives him when she's just messing with his head. Ichigo gapes at her, mouth open.
"Y-you... you... y-you..."
"You're so articulate," Rukia chirps and daintily hops off of his bed, the toy clutched in her hand. She looks at him, holding it up for him to see clearly – like he hasn't seen one. "Come on, Ichigo. You really think I'm that naïve? I've been alive for decades. I think I'd know something about adult recreational devices," she informs him, placing air-quotes around the last three words.
Before he can say anything, she skips out, strap-on clutched in her hand.